Connecting with God through poetic articulations of lived, embodied experience–engaging texts from the Revised Common Lectionary for Christian churches, other biblical and spiritual texts, and evocations of the divine in rituals and other public events–always accepting lived reality as a primary source of divine revelation and mystery.

healing

Reflection on Proper 6, 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, Year A

Textual foci: Matthew 9:35-10:23; Psalm 100; Romans 5:1-8Click here for biblical textsSunday morning at the Metro Station pleasant people staff stations for sharing the truth they claim, they know, will set us free pamphlets, magazines, personal testimony and smiles, handshakes, even hugs too to show the love of God in case we don’t know it already and to be sure our belief is correct so when Jesus comes, when Jesus comes, we are counted worthy.

They smile and say “Good Morning” as I pass clerical color and dangly earrings marking me a man different from others as I smile too—the politeness of our exchange linking us strangely with the One who was often impolite, or at least impolitic, healing the wrong people on the wrong day breaking bread with the disreputable loving sinners as much as the pious— or maybe more—the One with big plans for his twelve just as he has for us, compassion to share with the lost, curing disease, healing the sick in body and heart, guiding sheep who lose our way.

Yes we are the sheep called also to be shepherds—there always is someone who needs leading to water or food or medical care or encouraging words like those some give my friend Tyrone the Pennyman at this same station but not on Sunday. He does not sit in his usual spot to call out “Pennies, pennies, pennies,” to busy travelers on the Lord’s Day, we being fewer in number (why is church attendance declining now?) and perhaps more intent on filling the collection plate than the stomach of one with few teeth, many rags and unkempt hair— yet in his cheerful countenance reminds me of St. Paul who says suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope.

I just pray Tyrone’s hope does not disappoint him and others who struggle in like manner, that somehow divine love moves enough sheep, and shepherds too, you and me among them, to help the lowly rise that all may make a joyful noise and worship God with joy.

A Reflection in Response to the 6th Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving your God, obeying God’s voice, and clinging to God.

Jesus on the hill says life is threatened when anger, judgment, and insult reign, wisdom sorely needed today. Too many around us, and probably ourselves at times, slide into thinking of those with whom we disagree as enemies, as people almost beyond the pale of humanity, people in whose face we feel free to spit, if not literally then certainly in our refusal to speak or even listen to them— we can kill them even when they remain alive.

In the patriarchal culture in which Jesus lived, as within our contemporary but still toxic version today, life is threatened because women are objectified, seen only as agents to satisfy male appetites, or valued only for bearing children. And there are others who seem to exist only to be abused or discarded by others, or, by our inaction, our inability, unwillingness, to say no to mistreatment: Black men shot in the streets or locked away, transwomen and men, too, shamed and beaten to death in restrooms, immigrants and youthful Dreamers maligned as rapists or terrorists, being walled out or sent back to the terror from which they fled, sick people denied care because they can’t afford it.

As Jesus says, your life, my life, all lives are threatened when we do not follow through with the oaths, the promises, we make and when we and others succumb to the empty promises of product advertising or political platforms or leaders whom we let take us for fools.

Jesus reminds us interpreting the law, hearing the voice of God in texts ancient and modern, is far more complicated than many claim; we have to listen with great care, with our hearts not just our logic, with our souls as much as our minds, we have to remember the fundamental commandment to love not only ourselves but just as much if not more our neighbor, knowing that Jesus knew everyone, including even Pilate and the Pharisees and Judas, was his neighbor, just as Pilates, Pharisees and Judases in our own day are our neighbors, perhaps even more in this shrinking world.

If our interpretations lead to death – silencing voices different from our own, discounting the personhood of the other, whoever that may be, disrespecting, disregarding, demeaning whole groups, thereby putting people in what we think is their place – then we have to think long and hard about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus; we have to wonder if we get Jesus at all.

So these days I am reminding myself to “choose life” as the standard for how I speak and act, how I seek to be the disciple I want to be, the disciple I feel Jesus calling me to be. Like those 2,000 years ago, I don’t do this perfectly, but when I remember to ask myself, “Does this promote and support life, or is it going to lead to more death,” I do less damage. I may even help those around me, may be an agent of healing.

Today I set before you life and death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your family and your friends, indeed all the world living now and forever, may live.

Reflection on the 4th Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A

Men strut across worldly stages believing what counts is how big they are, or how big others say they are, but other measures come closer to God whom they cannot surpass and who wants them, us, to walk humbly, do justice, and love kindness every moment of life we are given. Micah knew God is not interested in show but in deeds and intention, the heart always showing through at least as much by what we do, what we put first, as by what we say or by what we do not do or say. Knowing this wisdom beyond understanding into action, Jesus tells us what God seeks from us.

I know people like Samaritan Leper Number 10, despite being among the innumerable despised, putting thank you at the top of their vocabulary, for the sun rising, moon glowing, worms crawling, bugs biting, children hugging, also begging, adults arguing, politicians pointing, dancers leaping, actors declaiming, movie stars posing, thieves conniving, cops getting it right, even wrong when we need to get angry about racism, and lots of other ills we have yet to fix—still all these are signs of life in God’s universe, opportunities to celebrate creation or to pray, confess, take responsibility for what has gone wrong. So far.

vi.sualize.us

Gangs of today’s lepers wander our streets; some claim them untouchables out of fear they will rob or hurt them or because they look different. Others know these modern Samaritans hurt too, projecting toughness to disguise their pain, so mothers and lovers will not give away truth of their vulnerability to The Man who patrols mean hard streets looking for trouble. And then the sound of gunfire, was it police, or was it another untouchable? What if Jesus appeared, would they keep their distance but call out, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us! We don’t want to die, we don’t want to kill, have mercy on us. Would Jesus send them to local priest or pastor, would Jesus send them to church to be judged, given a food bag, sent on their way? Or would they be welcomed, given a bath, new clothes, hope, an invitation to come back next week for more of the same and even more, a ride to a job interview, chance to earn a GED, then community college, visit to medical clinic, maybe even a hug?

Reflection in Response to Proper 9, 7th Sunday after Pentecost

We are descended from the seventy appointed by Jesus to go to all the towns where he intended to go. So we too must go, offering like Elisha our version of God’s power and wisdom to heal those who are sick or broken— such as Naaman, the mighty warrior, commanding troops but unable to command God’s man who heals not on human order but on divine grace—and so many today seeking help, thinking they can gain blessed, fruitful life, not from holy agents but from acquiring more things, controlling more people, building walls and attacking those they fear, not trusting God or really anyone, even their sacred selves.

diggingdeepernow.org

There seems so little faith today, even among ones who proclaim how strong is their belief, confusing belief with faith, the latter being, as sainted Bill Coffin said long ago, not believing without proof but trusting without reservation. Can we trust God,will we trust Her to not only send us out to the places we are needed but also to give us the tools we need to do what is right before us, the first tool being sight clear enough to see the work, brave enough not to look the other way, smart enough to escape the snares put in our way.

Can we be as wise as Naaman’s servants who counseled him not to be dazzled by showy demonstrations of prophetic power or in thinking it is he who knows the way of healing because he is a man of earthly power—can we in short go about God’s work, our work, with a quiet determination, listening to deep parts of ourselves, seeing God in the faces and lives of others, trusting our call—yes, you, me, everyone, has a call, maybe more than one but often we miss it, paying attention to life’s fluff and stuff, thinking we can be made whole, and others as well, through the market and social media, watching videos, unreality television, celebrity sightings, forgetting God comes so often in stillness, soft voices gentle glances of care, loving touches of our sacred bodies.

It is easy to admire the 70 who went out for the Lord and then to look askance at how they enjoyed their moments of fame, as if we are so pure and unwilling to be drawn in by worldly lures— indeed we best start by signing up to receive our assignments, admitting we feel ill-prepared and need to lean on everlasting arms that will carry us from place to place, errand to errand, in humble service, whose reward is not “volunteer of the year” but rejoicing, as Jesus said, for our names written in heaven.

About this poem . . . The story of Naaman’s healing by Elisha is a suitable backdrop for the account of Jesus sending the 70 into the field, neither the General nor the disciples aware of how dependent they are on God’s grace and power. And it causes me to recognize in myself certain tendencies of self-aggrandizement and congratulation, cutting me off from sacred union with the divine within.

When you want to drive out a demon or maybe more than one, an addiction perhaps or a fear that saps life and energy, or maybe a really big demon that runs and ruins many lives, an ideology of hate or greed masked as business as usual, you need divine help—a prayer is good, a plea for help from on high, or if Jesus is nearby his touch or blessing works wonders. In Gerasene land, across from Galilee, one body’s worth of demons is moved and then destroyed; perhaps some are aware that in Galveston in Texas land almost two millennia later, with what seems like less holy help, a big demon was, for a while at least, moved, although not destroyed (indeed it lives today, but disguised for many).

swlajuneteenth.org

On June 19, 1865, 151 years ago—known today as Juneteenth— when General Grainger and Union troops entered Galveston he issued General Order No. 3, putting into effect what Lincoln had decreed more than two years earlier: the slaves are free. Demon slavery had not gone willingly, hanging on through a war of rebellion that cost more lives than any other in our national saga; and in places like Texas, far from the fighting, ignoring whatever transformation the local powers did not entertain or accept in what they perceived to be their own interest. But with the new order, now freed slaves celebrated, as we continue to celebrate today.

The powers that were in Texas probably felt like the locals of Gerasene, opposite Galilee, when Jesus arrived, upsetting local customs and freeing one man from demons who enslaved him in self-hatred and destruction. In Galveston, this was an act of restoration, renewal of identity—each slave’s humanity affirmed, their community suddenly, in law at least, given recognition and perhaps glimmerings of social power (sadly all too soon erased, deliberately, viciously replaced by the caste system called Jim Crow). In the country opposite Galilee suddenly orderis overturned as the man’s demons, cast out of him, enter swine, destroying herds, and the local population see the formerly naked, incomprehensible man now dressed and in his right mind. Afraid of what has come to pass and what it portends, the locals ask Jesus to leave—just as federal troops and others would be recalled from Texas and elsewhere. The old order it seems must always be restored, demons given their due.

And yet, and yet, the blessed man lives to tell his tale of liberation and we read it still today, just as former slaves—technically free while burdened with old racist ways dressed in new fashions of oppression, abuse, degradation—carried and shared body memories of those few short years, to be and live more or less free. Today we remember the hope and joy that was then and join the struggle yet raging to free people and their demons everywhere— God’s claim on us to topple diabolical powers raging inside addicted fearful souls and resist daily hell on earth that is war, misery, poverty, racism, religious prejudice (massacres of innocents in the name of God?), proclaiming and instituting divine reality: all our demons, be gone!

About this poem . . . . I appreciate the confluence of two events on the same day this year: the reading of the Lucan text involving the healing of the Gerasene demoniac and the 151st anniversary of Juneteenth, the day the slaves in Galveston were told of their freedom. Demons come in many forms, and they are often persistent, baffling, and cunning. Yet God continues to give us authority to cast them out, if we choose to confront them and risk creating a new world.

Sin is the great human equalizer even though some always point with alarm at sins of others and often manage to sin really big as they hide behind their judgments. A great gift King David shares with us is the largeness of his sinning— no petty morality thief he—this impregnator of Bathsheba, murderer of Uriah did it big not for the first or last time in his storied life. Nor is it only once that loyal counselor Nathan conveys God’s displeasure—can you just see him, smacking his head perhaps, thinking how could he do this, when will he learn there are limits even for kings? Even great kings basking in God’s favor.

Luke tells of less violent but still a disrespectful act of Pharasaic inhospitality toward the woman who dared show love and care for Jesus invited to his home for dinner; this woman, labeled a sinner, is judged unworthy by the host to grace his home— can you not see him looking down his privileged nose at her, even as she bathes Jesus’ feet with her tears and alabaster ointment—and Jesus assumes Nathan’s role to show the eminent one that etiquette counts less than ethics, that generosity begins in simple acts of kindness—greeting all your guests invited or not with dignity, an embrace or kiss, water for hands dirtied in the ordinariness of life and for dried throats, perhaps even ointment for weary brow and aching feet, none of this shared by he who sits as judge.

This leader is to be sure well-meaning, conscious of what he and others see as his role and duty to keep rules of social decorum in place— how will the others know where to sit without a place card, and know if there is no such marker they are not welcome. Order matters for him, as for many, maybe even for you and me; It is so easy to sit on our own throne of judgment but when did you last invite a homeless person to dine with you, or even stoop to share a dollar with the beggar lying rudely in his rags on the street?

As for David, those despicable acts are in a class by themselves, so surely we can judge righteously, not being rapists or murderers ourselves—but, and think carefully before answering, when was the last time you marched into your bosses’ office and told her the company’s investments in the West Bank, resulting in Palestinians being moved off their land against their will, were immoral, or even spoke up to object to the telling of a racist or homophobic or transphobic joke, or went to an abortion clinic to stand with women having to brave the pickets standing in judgment of their need for help, or if you are a person who considers himself white, when was the last time you tried to organize your neighbors, all of whom look like you, into protesting policies and practices that make black men as many as ten times more likely to be arrested than you and your friends?

Sin is the great human equalizer because it comes in so many forms and maybe the best way to see it is to look in the mirror, at least to start there as a reminder that redemption begins at home, that forgiveness is a gift that keeps on giving, mercy is rarely overdone, kindness is always appropriate, greed is always wrong whether it is a brutal taking or a sly shoplift, killing is at the apex of the index, whether it is one-on-one or we sit idly as our army kills whether we know the cause or not, just because someone has told us it’s them or us.

The truth, God’s truth, is that it is never them or us, it is always them and us, just us. The sooner we learn that, the sooner sin will die a holy and natural death.